


Six Years

by asthora



Category: The Arcana (Visual Novel)
Genre: Eventual Romance, F/M, Slow Burn
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-04-21
Updated: 2018-04-21
Packaged: 2019-04-26 01:27:58
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,453
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14391321
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/asthora/pseuds/asthora
Summary: Asra tells the apprentice that they have known each other for nine years.  For three of those, the apprentice has no memory, but what about the other six?  A retelling of those six years, from the first masquerade to the last.





	Six Years

There were only three days left before the count’s masquerade and Vesuvia was a boiling pot of anticipation.  Asra set up his stand behind a potions shop, counting his blessings that he was lucky enough to find an open spot so close to the marketplace.  There was a feverish feeling in Vesuvia. Vendors from all the city and beyond were heckling their wares, taking up every available inch of the city, leaving only a sliver of room for the carts and horses to pass by.  Asra had sold his masks and trinkets for several years now but this was the first time he was in the thick of things, the first time he had a proper stand.

His tent, made of colorful shawls and quilts, blocked most of the city heat.  He left the flap open and leaned against one of the tent’s poles, watching the bustling city with a smile on his face.  There were hundreds, if not thousands of people milling around, sniffing perfumes, trying on masks, and draping luxurious furs or brightly dyed scarves over their shoulders.  It was a reminder why he loved the city. Vesuvia was a living being during the masquerade. Muriel didn’t understand the attraction so he stayed tucked away in the furthest, less populated corners of the city, but Asra couldn’t get enough of it.  This was his home and here it was flourishing and alive.

He returned to his table and shined his cloudy crystal ball with the hem of his shirt.  He got it from an old fortune teller by the docks who was going out of business. Muriel said he was a fool for spending coin on it but Asra had figured he deserved it and besides, if they were ever to make money from his fortunes, he needed the prop.  No one would trust a fortune teller without a crystal ball.

Most of the fortunes Asra told were fake.  It wasn’t that he was a liar, no in fact he was quite  _ good _ at it, but people didn’t want to hear the truth.  They were more likely to tip him more coin if they heard they were going to come into vast riches by the end of the year or their love life was soon to be picking up.  He felt a bit of guilt but then he remembered he and Muriel fighting over scraps in the gutter as children or stealing from fruit stands and bakers. No, the stand was what kept them alive.  A little lie wouldn’t hurt and it wasn’t like any of the fortune tellers in the city were  _ real _ .  That’s what Asra told himself, at least.  There were a few good ones but the majority were like him, exploiting the festivities for a bit of coin.

Today was no different.  He spent his time looking into the crystal ball and delivering fake fortunes.  He sold Muriel’s protection charms and some of his own carved animal figurines.  A group of ladies came by and practically cleared him of his masks and when they left, his coin purse was bulging and he could practically taste the pastries he would buy from the baker on his way home.

It was in the evening, when the sun was falling and orange and pink streaks reached across the sky, that she walked into his tent.  At first he didn’t notice her, he was too busy rearranging the masks on the table when he saw a movement out of the corner of his eyes and happened to glance up.  She was removing her hood, dark brown tresses tumbling from her orange scarf. She looked young, around his age, and her dark skin was glowing in the evening light.  She smiled at him and gestured to the crystal ball.

“So you tell fortunes,” she said. “Are you still open for a reading?”

He opened his mouth and closed it a few times like a gaping fish before he finally stammered out a yes and led her to the small table in the back of the tent.  She sat down and crossed her hands, leaning towards the ball with that same coy smile on her face.

“Does this thing actually work?” She asked.

Asra looked sheepish and ran a finger across it’s murky surface.  For some reason, he found he suddenly couldn’t lie. “No,” he responded. “But I don’t really need it anyway.”

She raised an eyebrow and looked up at him.  Her eyes were a shocking shade of green and his heart hammered against his chest like a caged bird.  “You don’t need it?” She said. “Then how do you tell fortunes?”

He smiled and offered her his hand. “May I?”

She nodded and took his hand lightly.  As soon as their skin touched his eyes widened.  It was almost like he had been burned but there was no pain.  “You’re a magic user,” he said. “I... _ wow _ .” 

The girl ducked her head, looking a little embarrassed.  “Yet, I can’t tell my own fortune. Pity, isn’t it?”

“No one can tell their own fortune,” Asra smiled.  “Not even I can do that.”

He looked back down at her hand and traced the lines arcing through the skin.  Whoever she was, she had some power. While the sensation was gone he still felt her magic thrumming through her and into him.  It was warm, and when he closed his eyes and reached for the part of him that  _ saw things _ , her magic jumped in response as if in recognition of his own.

Asra let the sounds of the city fade away until... _ there _ .  He could feel it.  He saw the visions in a series of pictures, all very vague, similar to the images on tarot cards.  It had taken him years to decipher what they meant but he was good at it now. He had a lot of practice.

“You are at a crossroads,” he said. “Your past is important to you but it isn’t who you are.  It’s time to let it go. Your aunt is right, you’re special, and memories will hold you back.”

He heard her gasp but he continued.

“Forces are brewing in the city that will change the course of your life.  It will take years before you notice these changes. They will not occur overnight and even then, when the time comes, when your destiny meets its crescendo, you may not even realize the patterns until it is too late.  But, you will not be alone. No, you walk a path treaded by others... _ treaded by m _ -”

Asra was cut off by a cacophony of roaring voices.  He opened his eyes to see the girl staring at him, her mouth agape and her face pale.  For a moment, they just stared at one another, but then a trumpet sounded off in the distance, and if broken from a trance, the girl shook her head and looked away.

“Something’s happening,” she said. “We should go look.”

Asra nodded and followed her to the entrance of his tent.  He drew back the flap only to be met by a wall of people. They were trapped with no sign of being able to leave soon.  The blaring of the trumpets was coming closer and the girl stood on her toes, desperately trying to see over the crowd.

“What’s happening?” He shouted.

“It’s the Princess Nadia of Prakra!  She’s arrived in the city for the masquerade.  It’s rumoured she’s engaged to Count Lucio, that’s why she’s here.”  She said.

Asra remembered hearing about this.  He wasn’t exactly a gossipmonger but he had ears and he heard things, and all the city could seem to talk about was the arrival of the princess.  Asra hadn’t really paid much attention to the news, he tended to listen for more useful information, like which shops in the city were the easiest to break into and which guards could be bribed to look the other way when he needed to go unseen.  He had completely forgotten today was the day. Apparently, he was the only one. It appeared all of Vesuvia had swarmed to this street to watch the procession.

“Do you want to see better?” He asked.  The girl was desperately trying to peer over the heads of the crowd to no avail.

“If you wouldn’t mind,” she said, and Asra  _ swore _ she was blushing.

He smiled and bent low.  The girl hesitantly wrapped her arms around his neck and latched her legs around his waist.  When he stood to his full height he was almost dizzy. She smelled  _ incredible _ .  God help him, she smelled intoxicating, like lavender and lemongrass and freshly picked herbs.  

“Can you see?” He asked, trying to clear his head.  Why was it suddenly so hard to focus?

“Yes!” She shouted.  “Thank you! They’re coming down the road now, look!”

Asra could just barely see over the tops of heads.  Indeed  _ something _ was coming.  The trumpeteers on their horses were prancing down the street now, the royal guard following in their red and gold finery.  There were other guards too that were dressed in a purple uniform Asra had never seen. They must have been the princess’ own guard.

The crowd was practically in hysterics now.  A onslaught of servants were walking past now, each carrying an armful of silks or baskets of foreign fruits and spices.  Gifts for the count? Asra wasn’t sure but his mouth watered at the sight of a basket full of red pomegranates held by a particularly burly looking servant.  On his back the girl laughed and her arms tightened around his neck.

“Have you ever seen such a thing?” She asked.

No, Asra had never seen such grandeur in his entire life.  Neither had his heart ever been so light in his chest.

After the servants came a few dozen dancers and more trumpeteers before finally, the princess herself came into view.  The cheering was deafening. The girl on his back was practically jumping up and down as she laughed in his ear and joined in the crowd, shouting at the top of her lungs.  Nadia was beautiful. Even on her horse Asra could tell she was tall and slender. Her purple hair was up in an elaborate braid and her crimson gaze swept over the crowd. She was smiling but it didn’t reach her eyes.  She was much younger than Asra had imagined, but her beauty was undeniable. The guards surrounding her deterred any unwanted ravenous citizens, but the crowd made sure its approval was heard. By the time Nadia finally passed and was out of view Asra was sure he had gone deaf.

The girl on his shoulders was laughing and twisted her body so that she was looking right at him, inches away from his face.

“Did you see her?  Isn’t she divine?” She asked.

_ Not as divine as you _ , Asra wanted to say.  He bit his tongue and nodded.  “Definitely looked like a princess,” he responded.

She laughed and slipped off his back. “Can you believe the crowd?  I didn’t know there were so many people in Vesuvia!”

“I suppose this will be the most attended Masquerade in ages.  How do you think they’ll find enough food for all these people?” He joked.

“I don’t know.  A better question is, how will we all fit in the palace?  You’re going to the masquerade, right?”

His smile faded and he shook his head. “No rest for the wicked I’m afraid,” he said, gesturing to his tent. “Are you?”

She nodded. “It’s my first time.  Pity you won’t be there. It would be nice to see a familiar face.”

They smiled at each other for a few moments.  Even though the noise of the city was still at a roar, he felt as if he and this girl were in their own little world, like it was just the two of them for hundreds of miles.  Asra didn’t even know her yet, her easy presence was so comfortable, so natural, that he felt has if he had know her for ages. He couldn’t stop staring. Something about her was so fascinating but what was it?  Her strange magic? Maybe it was the contrast of her brilliant eyes against her tawny skin or her tinkling laugh and intelligent gaze. Whatever it was, Asra found himself hoping that the crowd would never clear, that they could stay in this tent and talk forever.

“How much do I owe you for the reading?” She asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

He waved his hand. “Nothing.  It’s free.”

She arched one of her dark eyebrows and frowned. “Are you sure?”

“Of course.”

“Then I’ll have to buy something from you,” she said, tapping her chin and gazing at the long table.  It was almost empty and he suddenly felt self conscious. There was barely anything left that even  _ he _ would buy. 

“You don’t-”

“How about this?” She interrupted him.  She had picked up a rough carving of his, an image of a prowling fox.  It wasn’t one of his best pieces but it was charming.

“I couldn’t possibly ask you to pay for that,” he said. “It’s practically unfinished.”

“Well I absolutely adore it,” she smiled, reaching into her coin purse. “Here, take this and don’t you dare say no.”

He obediently produced his hand and she dropped three gold coins into his palm.  The fox was only priced at one and he started to object but she shook her head.

“It’s a tip,” she said. “For the reading and letting me use you as a pack mule so I could watch the procession.”

Asra laughed and gave a shaky mock bow. “It was my honor, milady.”

The girl returned his gesture with a showy curtsey and a brilliant little laugh that prickled the skin on the back of his neck.  Again he found himself hoping she would stay longer, but the girl was already wrapping her scarf around her head and tucking away her coin purse.

“I’m afraid I’ve neglected my errands too long and I must be off,” she said, disappointment in her voice. “But I thank you, fortune teller.”

“Please,” he said quickly. “Call me Asra.”

“Asra,” she repeated, drawing out his name and smiling. “Thank you.  I hope our paths cross in the future.”

He bowed his head and watched as she parted the flap and disappeared into the crowd. Asra stood still, his arms tightly wrapped around his middle, watching the fabric flutter in the breeze.  Her scent still lingered, an unmistakable aroma of fresh cut lavender and lemongrass. He breathed it in and smiled, feeling like a complete and utter fool as he realized, he’d never even asked for her name.


End file.
